


Pilot Flipped

by mad_martha



Category: The X-Files
Genre: AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-27
Updated: 2011-08-27
Packaged: 2017-10-23 03:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_martha/pseuds/mad_martha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Supposing Mulder was assigned to debunk Scully's work on the "X" files?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pilot Flipped

**Author's Note:**

> This was first posted in August 1999.

The receptionist at the J. Edgar Hoover Building was not the most approachable of women, but even she managed to produce a smile when the tall, lanky, rather good-looking man paused in front of her desk.  He smiled back absently, pushing his unruly dark hair out of his eyes.

 

"Special Agent Fox Mulder."

 

The receptionist handed him a pass and waved him through into the building; and he was on his way, totally unaware of the ripple of interest he caused among the women in the crowd milling about in the massive foyer.

 

He was familiar with the layout of the building; he'd even worked there once, so finding his way through the sprawl of desks and cabinets that formed the Violent Crimes Section's "bullpen" was not a problem, and in what seemed like no time at all, he was knocking on the door of Section Chief Blevins' office.

 

When he stepped inside, Agent Mulder saw Blevins – a man he was reasonably familiar with – sat behind his desk, and another man he didn't know leaning on a tall filing cabinet in the corner. 

 

Blevins looked up and nodded.  "Ah, Agent Mulder.  Please take a seat."

 

Mulder did as he was told, and settled himself comfortably in the chair in front of the wide desk to wait.  Inured to this situation by countless other meetings like it, he was made not uncomfortable by the interview-like atmosphere: he was an agent of several years' standing and knew, without vanity, his own value to the Bureau.

 

"So, Agent Mulder …."  Blevins rustled a few sheets of paper in a file briefly, then folded his hands on the desk in front of him and studied the younger man.  "Thank you for coming on such short notice.  You've been with the Bureau, what – five years now?"

 

"Near enough, Sir," Mulder agreed.  He was a little surprised by this approach, but did not betray it.

 

"You qualified as a psychologist, as I recall, but chose not to practice.  How did you come to join the FBI?"

 

"I applied to the FBI during my final year at Oxford," he replied readily enough.  "I'd been studying criminal psychology, and the field interested me – the FBI seemed like a good way of practising at the sharp end of the business, so to speak.  During training, Agent Patterson discovered that I had a natural aptitude for applying behavioural models to criminal cases and … to cut a long story short, I was assigned to the Behavioural Sciences Unit at Quantico.  Give or take a few brief assignments in other Divisions, that's where I've been ever since."

 

Blevins nodded.  "Are you familiar with an agent named Dana Scully?" he asked.

 

Agent Mulder blinked at the question.  "Yes I am," he replied, after a moment.

 

Blevins seemed rather surprised by this, and betrayed it by a quick glance at the other man, who had remained silent so far.  "How so?"

 

"Mostly by reputation.  She's a forensic pathologist who was recruited by the Bureau out of medical school, and until recently she taught at Quantico Academy.  I think she's been with the FBI for a couple of years.  Generally thought of as the best forensic investigator in the FBI …. She made a name for herself during the Monty Propps case - without her skill and attention to detail in the medical examinations, we might not have caught him."  Mulder smiled faintly.  "Some of the guys gave her a nickname – the Ice Queen - but I could never see why."  He glanced at the silent man as he said it, but received only a blank stare in response.

 

Blevins nodded.  "What I'll also tell you is that Agent Scully recently developed a consuming interest in an unassigned project outside the Bureau mainstream. Are you familiar with the so-called "X" files?"

 

Mulder's brows rose.  He was – but he hadn't expected them to come up in a conversation with the Section Head of the Violent Crimes Unit.  "I believe they have to do with unexplained phenomena," he replied with combination of caution and wariness.

 

"More or less.  The reason you're here, Agent Mulder, is we want you to assist Agent Scully on these X-files.  You will write field reports on your activities, along with your observations on the validity of the work."

 

There was a pause.  Mulder was wondering just why they felt a senior profiler was needed for  this assignment, when they already had a highly qualified forensic pathologist on the job.  Hopefully it wasn't because of his Academy nickname - "Spooky".  "Am I to understand … that you want me to _debunk_ the X-files, Sir?" he asked finally. 

 

Despite his best efforts, his tone was decidedly quizzical, and Blevins twitched irritably at it.  "Agent Mulder, we hope you'll retain an open mind on the subject, whilst making the proper professional analysis."  His tone was a rebuke, but Mulder accepted it philosophically.  "You'll want to contact Agent Scully shortly.  We look forward to seeing your reports."

 

XXXX

 

Agent Scully was based at the Washington DC field office – no big surprises there, although Mulder had been in and out of that office on a semi-regular basis for the last six months with no idea that she was stationed there.  He wondered, as he passed the office's receptionist with a nod, why none of the field agents had mentioned her presence.  Agent Scully had a good enough reputation in her field to make having her on site in the building quite a coup.

 

Although from what he knew of her current project (and thanks to a combination of natural nosiness and his own particular hobbies, he knew quite a bit), Mulder wouldn't be surprised if she wasn't also something of an embarrassment to her colleagues.

 

This theory was proven by the sympathetic and dubious looks he garnered from the small clump of agents he asked for directions.

 

Agent Scully was in the basement.  Well … it could be worse.  As a member of the Behavioural Sciences Unit, Mulder had worked in a basement before.  The BSU had started its existence in the basement of the Hoover Building before being moved to Quantico, but during the office renovations a few years before, they had doubled up with some of the forensics staff in the basement there as well.


  



All the same, when the lift disgorged him at the "lower ground floor", he felt a tingle of apprehension which was not relieved by the sight of narrow corridors, dim lighting and abandoned furniture cluttered around.  He manoeuvred around a stack of empty packing crates, wondering how on earth this place kept its Fire Certificate with so much rubbish hanging around, and made his way towards the only doorway that was lit.

 

It was the kind of door that was half panelled, half glazed, and thanks to the bright lighting of the room behind it, Mulder could see that someone had made half-hearted efforts to scrape off an old painted sign on the patterned glass: STORES.  Underneath was a much newer plastic nameplate: Special Agent Dana Scully MD BSc Phys.  Well, at least he was in the right place.  He raised one hand and tapped on the door.

 

"Come in," a cool but feminine voice commanded, and Agent Mulder stepped inside, feeling uncomfortably like an erring pupil sent to the headmistress's office.

 

The impression was not relieved by what he found inside.

 

In contrast to the corridor outside, the office was brightly lit and austerely neat, its untidiest feature being a pinboard near the door that was covered in newspaper cuttings and photographs.  Even those were arranged in a semblance of order.  There was a desk which, apart from a stack of ageing files,  a set of document trays and a slide projector, seemed to be empty of even normal office equipment; and a set of shelves around the walls filled with orderly rows of books and box files.  Mulder couldn't remember the last time he'd seen _any_ office in the Bureau looking so tidy, and he included the Director's inner sanctum in that assessment.

 

Agent Scully herself was standing in front of a small light table by the wall opposite, and appeared to be sorting out photographic slides.  Having seen her – at a distance – once before, Mulder was familiar with her appearance, but it came as a surprise to realise how small she was; even in quite substantial heels, she barely topped his shoulder.  She had straight, shoulder-length red hair in a functional and rather uninteresting style, and wore a plain, light grey trouser-suit, the jacket of which swung perilously from a loose hook behind the door as he entered the room.  Then she turned to look at him and he was pinned to the spot by a pair of icy-cool blue eyes that fixed on him like lasers.

 

There was an uncomfortable pause as they assessed each other silently; then, when it became plain that she had no intention of making the first move, Mulder took a hesitant couple of steps toward her, holding out one hand.

 

"Agent Scully.  I – I'm Fox Mulder, I've been assigned to work with you."  Inwardly he cursed at the tiny hesitation in his speech which betrayed the long-conquered stutter of his childhood, but if she noticed, there was no visible reaction. 

 

For a moment, he thought she might refuse to shake his hand; then she was also taking a step forward and grasping it firmly, a wintry little smile crossing her lips.  "How nice to suddenly be so highly regarded!" she commented, and Mulder felt himself flush despite the position he was in being none of his doing.  "Which high-ranking member of the establishment did you upset to get thrown into the basement with me, Agent Mulder?"

 

"Actually, I'm looking forward to working with you," he replied, deciding that it was time he went on the attack.  He was the psychologist, after all, and if he couldn't figure his new partner out, he might as well quit the Bureau and become a landscape gardener.  "I've heard a lot about you."

 

Wrong thing to say.  Her expression became even colder, if that was possible.  "Oh really?  I was under the impression you were sent here to spy on me."

 

That hurt, especially considering his own doubts about the nature of assignment when Blevins had laid it out.  "If you have any doubts about my qualifications or credentials – "

 

Scully turned and picked a neatly bound document out of one of her filing trays.  Her reading glasses were hanging around her neck on a fine chain; she put them on and studied the cover of the document with an interest that was almost – but not quite – spurious.  "You're an Oxford-educated psychologist and you work in the Behavioural Sciences Unit.  You wrote a paper the year you joined the Bureau, on serial killers and the occult, that became part of the official FBI handbook on criminal profiling."  She paused, and looked at him over the top of her glasses.  "Considering that the current handbook was written by Agent Patterson, the head of the BSU, that's quite an achievement.  He isn't noted for accepting opinions that run contrary to his own."  She tossed the document lightly back into the tray, and Mulder wondered if it really was his paper or if she was just messing with his head.  "You also wrote the profile that helped catch Monty Propps in 1988," she finished, her tone almost indifferent.

 

Damn the woman ….   "You also worked on that case," he replied, his tone quiet and defensive.

 

"I'm surprised you even noticed," she remarked, and the icy little smile was back, although Mulder noticed that her eyes had lost their glacial coolness, developing a dangerous spark in its place.  "I was – what? the fifth or sixth medical examiner called in?  And on _your_ say-so as I recall."

 

"You were also the last," he pointed out.  "On re-examining the bodies, you found what all the other ME's missed, and helped close the case."

 

"Credit at last."  Scully turned back to the light table and quickly gathered up her slides, slotting them neatly into the carousel and fixing it into a projector that was standing on the end of her desk.  Then she hesitated and turned back to him, her face slightly wary.  It was the most open expression he'd seen on her yet, which was not very reassuring.

 

"So, Agent Mulder ….  You spend a lot of time getting into the heads of criminals, but how are you on hard evidence?"

 

He snorted gently.  "Without evidence there is no case, Agent Scully – so I like to think I'm pretty good about hard evidence."

 

"That's good," she remarked.  "There's just one problem – in my current cases, hard evidence is often difficult to come by."  She brushed past him and went to the door, switching out the light.  Then she leaned over her desk and flicked the projector on.  "Would you say you're open to extreme possibilities?"

 

Mulder gave her a bemused look, but he was beginning to lose some of his defensiveness out of sheer curiosity.  "You get used to extreme possibilities, dealing with serial killers …."

 

"Really?  See what you make of this."  Scully pressed the control on the projector and a slide appeared on a screen hanging on the wall.  "An Oregon girl, aged twenty-one, with no explainable cause of death.  The autopsy showed nothing."

 

Mulder studied the image for a moment or two, but could deduce little from it other than that the girl had been in her night-dress and her body appeared to have been dumped in a forest clearing.  "Who did the autopsy?" he asked finally.

 

"The local medical examiner."

 

"Any second opinions taken?"

 

The tiny smile was back on Scully's face, but in the dimmed light Mulder couldn't make out if it was as cool as before.  "No, none," she replied.

 

"Hm."

 

Seeing that he was unwilling to comment, Scully pressed the button and another slide appeared.  This time it was a close-up of a portion of the girl's back, showing two raised lumps.  "There are these two distinct marks on her lower back.  What do you think?"

 

Mulder stepped closer to the screen and peered at them.  "Could be a number of causes.  Needle punctures, an animal bite, stab from a pickle fork …."

 

 _"Pickle fork?"_

 

He glanced back at her, a tiny, mischievous smile on his own lips.  "It has these two sharp little prongs – "

 

Agent Scully was briefly shaken out of her cool exterior; one delicate red brow rose.  "Are you serious?"

 

Mulder turned away from the screen and thrust his hands into his trouser pockets.  "Not really," he acknowledged, "although this wouldn't be the first time I've seen it used as a weapon."

 

Scully shot him a look, but evidently decided she didn't want to know.  She pressed the button again, and the image on the screen changed to a molecular diagram.  "How were you at school with chemistry, Agent Mulder?"

 

"I had great chemistry with the girl who sat two rows in front of me –   What is that?"

 

Mulder stared at the image on screen and didn't need to look at Scully to know that she was smiling again.

 

"I have no idea – I've never seen before either.  It's organic, and it _may_ be a synthetic protein of some kind, but more than that I can't tell you.  It was found in the surrounding tissues of those lumps."  She changed the image again and a picture of a youth in biker's leathers, lying face-down on a railway track, appeared.  "This was a nearly identical case in Sturgis, North Dakota – " she flicked the images over to a shot of another girl in a night-dress, "- and another one in Shamrock, Texas."

 

"You have a theory?" Mulder asked.

 

"One or two."  Scully switched off the projector and went to turn the lights back on.  "Perhaps you can explain something to me, though."  Mulder raised his brows at her enquiringly, and she  folded her arms, taking a deep breath.  "Perhaps you can explain why the Bureau labels cases like these as "unexplained phenomena" and files them away in a dark corner with all the crank cases about ghosts, goblins and UFOs?"

 

It was a loaded question.  Mulder looked down at Scully and could see from the look in her eyes that this was considerably more than a request for an honest opinion.  This was definitely a woman with something on her mind, and if he screwed up his answer, their partnership might go out of the window there and then before it had ever started.

 

"I don't know," he said finally, compelled to honesty by her searching stare, " but I do know that I wouldn't label any case as a "crank" without studying it first very carefully."

 

She nodded as if this was the answer she was expecting, and the tiny ironic smile was back.  Even though he didn't know why she was looking like that, Mulder was so annoyed by it that he spoke without thinking.  "Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials, Agent Scully?"  His tone was a challenge, and it brought her head up with a jerk.

 

But if he had expected to throw her poise, he was disappointed.  "Logically, I would have to say no," she replied calmly.  "Given the distances needed to travel from the far reaches of space, the energy requirements would far exceed a spacecraft's capabilities."

 

Well, he had expected a reply something like that.  Then she surprised him.

 

"That said – " Scully hesitated, and seemed to choose her words carefully.  "That said ... the universe is vast, and I was raised to believe that God's reach is infinite.  From that point of view, it would be ... arrogant ... to assume that we are the sum total of His creation."  There was a tiny pause in which Mulder wanted almost to laugh in delight.  Then her tone became brisk again.  "But if you're asking me if I think extraterrestrials had something to do with these deaths, then frankly, Agent Mulder, I would have to say – "

 

" – That I'm completely nuts," he nodded, and grinned in spite of himself.  "That wasn't what I was suggesting.  The point I'm trying to make is that when conventional wisdom and science offer no answers, might we not turn to the fantastic as a plausibility?"

 

Scully frowned.  "What I find fantastic is the notion that there are answers beyond the realm of science."

 

Mulder shrugged.  "Probably.  But I think we're both agreed that the answers are out there – you just have to know where to look."

 

A smile dawned on her face, one with a genuine hint of humour in it, and it lit up face.  "That's why they put the "I" in FBI."  She turned back to the slide projector and began to dismantle it again.  "Better go pack your overnight case, Agent Mulder," she told him over her shoulder.  "We leave for the _plausible_ state of Oregon tomorrow at 8.00 am."

 

Mulder stared at her for a moment, not quite sure how to react – whether to laugh or be indignant – realising that this was a dismissal.  Finally he grinned, shook his head slightly, and headed for the door.

 

This was going to be interesting.

**Author's Note:**

> According to my notes, I set most of the action in this story in the FBI's Washington DC field office because I read something once about how Mulder and Scully wouldn't work out of the Hoover Building in real life.


End file.
